


Carry the Mantle

by unlockthelore



Series: Yashahime Route [1]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale, 半妖の夜叉姫 | Hanyou no Yashahime | Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlockthelore/pseuds/unlockthelore
Summary: In the aftermath of his final trial, Shippō returned to Kaede's Village in search of his family and was given a new duty.
Relationships: Higurashi Kagome/InuYasha, Miroku/Sango (InuYasha), Moroha (Hanyou no Yashahime) & Shippou (InuYasha), Rin/Sesshoumaru (InuYasha)
Series: Yashahime Route [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933459
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Carry the Mantle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **UPDATE (03/07/21)** Hey everyone, it's been a long time but it's finally finished. I'm really proud of this rewrite because after watching the length of Yashahime - I've finally figured out what I wanted from this scene and this series as a whole. Including the others and Shippō's relationship with them, tidbits of one matter or another, this was the vibe that I was trying to accomplish all along and I love it! Thank you so much for reading and keeping up with my work thus far, and I can't wait to see you in the next chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**A Somber Homecoming**

Perhaps even the world itself was mourning.

Silence hung so heavily in the woods that even the wind whistling through leaf canopies and chirping insects hidden in the forest’s thicket were hushed. A cool breeze ruffled through the copper fur of a fox slinking out of the shrubbery with a small branch bearing red, round berries between his jaws. Scampering atop a moss-covered boulder, the fox curled in tight and dropped the twig between his front paws. Snapping lightly at its scrawny fingers as he gobbled up the berries in hopes of filling at least one gaping hole in his body. Sweet berry juice dripped from his snout, hardly masking the suffocating scent of burnt leaves, charred wood, and rotted flesh.

Wheezing around another harsh bite, the fox lapped at the fur surrounding his muzzle then grasped the twig’s end. Shallow dirt-filled cracks in the boulder’s mossy face were dug clean til the branch was close to splintering. Satisfied with his handiwork, the fox set the twig upright in the centre then leapt off his perch. Looking back with quiet reverence as he imagined a young girl in a checkered kosode proclaiming proudly that by planting the branch, the kodama slumbering within the tree from which it was hewn would know they were appreciative of its bounty.

In his current form, he couldn’t recite the prayers she taught him but he thought them earnestly. After traveling for what seemed to be an eternity _,_ only stopping when hunger or exhaustion threatened to leave him too weak to defend himself, this quiet reprieve felt too much for his aching bones. Lesser demons roaming through the wilds thought him easing pickings and fighting in this form was as dangerous as it was effective. He could still feel his wounds, gradually closing as his body sewed itself together driven by pulses of energy from the carefully crafted jewel buried between his ribs.

His mind wandered back to the girl. Persistent as she’d been in her beliefs, it was her kindness which left a lasting impression and perhaps the wood did remember. The forest was still healing and to take would be to leave another without, therefore sharing in this time was not without its constraints. To say he appreciated the land’s acceptance of him after he’d been gone for so long was an understatement. The twig swayed against the wind then gradually green dew-covered buds began to emerge on its fingers and a soft chiming noise echoed through the wood.

The fox listened to the song, one note turned to two then two to three as a melody was woven into the canopies and over his twitching ears filling the forest’s nightly humming with a song. His heart clenched as he thought of the girl singing while skipping over pebbles and stones. Scrambling up the side of the boulder, barefoot and eager, then setting the twig down watching with him as it bloomed.

Once the wind died down and the song came to an end, he bowed his head then returned on his way.

Moonlight could hardly pierce the wood’s depths, slivers of pale white guiding his footsteps across bridges of sprawling shadow. Trees, once dappled in colorful blooms shivered with verdant leaves adorning their limbs stretched towards the heavens til they blotted out the sky.

Shadows crease across the fox’s back as he crept over gnarled roots and past mushrooms peeping out of their crooks, caps aglow like watchful ghosts. He reminisced dully on how it felt to search for them on two limbs rather than four, others at his side rather than only himself. Whooping and hollering as they defied not only wisdom but age and boredom itself, emboldened by the light of the sun.

Without warning, the memory’s warmth faded. Visions stretched further than his eyes could perceive as he yearned for a time past then looked ahead once he could find no reprieve in nature’s embrace.

Fireflies glimmered like tiny, sputtering flames casting their light upon the still forms of animals nestled in an eternal sleep. Their decayed corpses blossomed with mushrooms, patches of grass and flowers. Unburied but taken into the forest’s embrace.

The fox looked upon them regrettably then turned off his path. Clearing small plots of blackened loam, he gently eased the remains to their individual resting places ignoring the ache in his paws as he leveled the earth once more then bowed his head in prayer.

Again he was left to his musings, simply staring out into the greenwoods until it was time to move on.

Lingering smoke choked purity from the air. Clouds of ash sprung up where his paws pressed atop swaths of grey withered grass sending plumes of stinging soot into his eyes. Painful tears blurred his vision, and the more he tried to blink them away - the stronger they became. For a time, he stood still and tried to rub at his eyes. Cursing the heavy heart in his chest while willing his legs to move.

He didn’t need to see the path, he reminded himself with a frustrated huff as he stumbled on blindly. Home was unforgettable and though his mind was a garbled mess of then and now, his heart knew the way.

Once the fox stepped out of the brush, he gulped down lungfuls of fresh air then forced his eyes open, setting his gaze upon plains turned to oceans by fair winds rippling tall, green blades of grass into rolling waves. Despite the woods’ wounds, wildflowers dotted the landscape, their colorful heads waxy beneath moonlight’s pale. Beams skimmed familiar rice paddy fields til they were pools of glittering silver and the dozing village off in the distance was but a shadow in its wake. Humbled, the fox fell back on his haunches, feeling the grass brush against his legs as he curled his tail close to his side and lifted his head to feel the rolling breeze.

A velvety sky blanketed with stars shone softly where they scattered behind rolling clouds greeted him. Listlessly, he searched for familiar patterns. Asterisms, he recalled a sweet voice whispering in his twitching ears. The same one that told him names humans had given the heavens.

In his youth, he hardly paid attention to them. Now, it was all he could think of. He tipped his head as he stared at the waning moon, eyeing four stars cradling its crescent curve as if not daring - or wanting - to leave its side.

Nostalgia turned his limbs to lead weights, anchoring him in place in spite of his mind’s insistence to move forward. During his journey, he told himself there was no time to dawdle whilst racing against accumulating fatigue and welling concern. Yet as he sat on the village’s outskirts, an eerie calm washed over him. Fire had burnt away the old world indiscriminately, ash seeping into soil and with the coming sunshine and rain, everything became _green_.

If he were in his other form, he may have smiled to stave off the clawing heat behind his eyes. However, remembrance took hold and his body was rendered a shell left to the elements’ mercy while his mind slipped away.

* * *

With every pass of the comb, his head bobbed up and down, sending thick copper locks aflutter where they fell over his face in a veil. He could have almost fallen into a light doze from the comb’s wide, wooden teeth scratching thick trails across his freshly-cleaned scalp. Thinking proving far beyond his capabilities with his mind half-lost in a haze while he enjoyed careful touches gathering his hair to one side, knuckles brushing gently across twitching, pointed ear tips.

He purred low in his throat, scarcely registering muffled laughter from behind him. A breath puffed past the tug at his lips’ corner as he tried to hold back a smile. The overheated skin of his nape tingling beneath fingertips drenched in sweet-smelling camellia oil warmed by the air circulating through the half-open window.

“Are you sure you don’t need to bring anything with you, Shippō?” A soft, wistful voice asked from above him. He could almost picture the crease between thin, dark brows while brown eyes gazed down at him beguilingly wide and concerned. Simply imagining it was enough to draw him out of his reverie with unbridled remorse.

Perhaps accepting one gift wouldn’t be unwise, he thought. He _was_ rather fond of her cooking, and though the strange items she’d brought from her time dwindled over the years, few did remain.

He could have even asked for something small, symbolic of the time they’d spent together, or drawn another picture atop the dozens he kept from childhood. His skills had improved significantly since then and it would be a keepsake for her more so than him. A steely gaze cut through his musings and between the copper locks, a vision of red loomed out the corner of his eye. Silent, albeit radiating an aura with a clear message: _Don’t do this to her._

His dampening spirit quivered at the stern look, but nevertheless he spoke softly, “No I’ll be fine, Kagome.”

“But it’ll be such a long way, won’t it?” He willed himself not to wince at how hurt she sounded, grateful he couldn’t see her face. “I could pack you a lunch, it won’t take long at all.”

Shippō hummed absentmindedly, attempting to seem contemplative although he was buying himself time from making her sadder and mourning the loss of a tray stacked three tiers high with his favorites. No, he knew better. If he took one glance at the emptied bottom then he’d feel compelled to return to the village no matter the distance. Kagome loved all the decorative boxes she used to pack their lunches and he wouldn’t want to ruin one.

But they both knew the box wouldn’t have been the reason for him to return. Excuses would be found over and over again until he decided to put this off once more - another year, perhaps three. What was time to a demon anyway when there were reasons to simply let the days roll past?

Once again, the red-cloaked observer pressed their gaze upon him but this time their warning was a tad sympathetic: _Don’t do this to yourself.._

Shippō grunted. He was right. No matter how he wanted to stay with them, eventually they would part, and delaying it would only hurt them all. He stared down at his balled fists pressed tightly against his thighs until he could feel the imprint of each trembling finger, painful pricks from his claws registering faintly against his palms. Bewildered, he wondered when was the last time he pricked his skin accidentally.

Slowly, Shippō tilted his head up and dragged a hand through the rippling veil of his hair, tucking the hanging locks behind his ear. With one of his eyes freed to gaze into the rounded mirror in front of him, he found hers in its reflection. A wordless apology exchanged with wishful and yearning silence ended when his attention slid to his own image.

The years changed him irrevocably but in a way he was proud of. No one could call him short any longer but that also meant his old clothes, the ones his father lovingly mended for him whenever he’d torn them playing, wouldn’t fit as they once had. Residual horror at seeing the torn sleeves brought on a wave of sorrow assuaged when the old garments were folded then set aside in storage, occasionally brought out when he helped in cleaning the hut during the summer months. Now, spring was upon them, and change had come once again.

His hand fell from his ear’s tip, tracing the length of a squared jaw stripped of baby fat despite the plumpness of his cheeks. His eyes were no longer as wide as they once were, and he could see his father’s pupil shape beginning to take hold. Pale, narrow slits flecked by streaks of light green amidst emerald . His father always told him that he had his mother’s features but it was his father’s eyes he saw reflected back at him. And as they curved downward with Shippō’s melancholic smile, he could imagine the older kitsune smiling down at him.

Would he be proud of him now?

Copper brown hair fell past his shoulders, broadened from countless hours spent helping around the village, tending to the farmland, carrying large hauls from wagons filled with provisions and other items as payment for Miroku’s _services_ , and relearning just what it was to be a demon. A short-sleeved dark grey haori flared around his biceps and his eyes followed the sepia pattern along its lining, recalling the reel of thread Kagome snatched from his hand after they’d returned from their last trip.

She embarrassedly hustled off with a hasty ‘welcome home’ echoing over her shoulder before he could register what happened. His question of what it was for left hanging in the air until Inuyasha roused him with a light smack to the shoulder, smirking but refusing to give away what Kagome was up to no matter how Shippō needled him.

Trailing his hand further, he thumbed one of the seams as he did when she presented it to him with bandaged fingers and a proud smile.

“I don’t need anything else, Kagome…” His voice trailed off as he met her misty gaze in the mirror’s reflection, and despite her closeness, he missed her already. Keeping the image of her smiling face in mind as his lips curled at the corner. “Thank you.”

Appreciation could have been chalked up to this one moment, but he felt its echo reverberating throughout all the time they’d been together. Moments where she protected him and he did his best to make her laugh through dire straits where she longed for home and simpler days while he worried she’d never return or worse, regret being with them. Even the grouch sitting off to the side who shared those same moments with them seemed affected by the sudden shift toward melancholy, giving an annoyed _keh_.

“Shippō’s a man now,” he groused, a pleasant warmth budding in Shippō’s chest at his acknowledgement. “And he doesn’t need _lunches_ or anyone holding his hand.”

Kagome huffed indignantly, though Shippō could tell from the light way she continued brushing his hair that she wasn’t upset. “ _Oh_ , so _you_ wouldn’t need a lunch either, Inuyasha,” she dryly remarked and Shippō bit back a snicker when Inuyasha recoiled visibly stricken by her cool appraisal. “And when we leave, maybe I _won’t_ hold your hand, it would make it _much_ easier to walk on my own.”

“W— Hang on, Kagome! I never said anything about me!”

Shippō laughed as they dissolved into light-hearted bickering, tension pouring out of the room through open mouths and windows, allowing love to take its place. A part of him whispered he would miss this once it was gone, but he preferred committing details to memory. Like how Inuyasha’s face reddened while Kagome needled at him revealing to no one’s surprise how much he adored his wife’s tactile approach in showing her affections despite pretending otherwise.

Shippō almost stepped into the fray but halted when he heard a light clatter, and the rolling sound of shōji shifting in its frame. He could feel someone’s gaze on him and shifted around slowly, only vaguely surprised when a pair of familiar dark brown eyes peeked at him through the door’s crack. Time slowed to a crawl and a name brushed the tip of his tongue, lips barely parting.

“I see you over there, Moroha.”

Inuyasha’s voice startled them both but unlike Moroha, Shippō was kept in place by Kagome’s limp hold on his hair. The girl ducked out of sight in a flash, small footsteps racing down the hall where another door slid open then slammed on its hinges. Its rattling was deafening in the ringing silence left by her absence. “She’s still avoiding me,” Shippō groaned, his drooping tail pressed close to his side.

Kagome patted the top of his head placatingly while Inuyasha grunted, jumping to his feet then trudging past them. In the mirror’s reflection, a flash of worry crossed Kagome’s features as she turned her head to address him. Without missing a beat, he slowed in step and turned slightly. His claws glided over Kagome’s shoulder, stopping at the hem of her kimono’s collar where the sharp white tips disappeared into her dark hair. Shippō pretended he couldn’t see the ends of Kagome’s hair twisting around Inuyasha’s fingers.

A look exchanged between them that Shippō was certain he wasn’t supposed to see but bore witness to countless times over. Then without another word the moment was over and Inuyasha swept out of the room with Kagome’s wistful sigh following him. Shippō’s ears burned. He’d definitely heard _that_ sigh before and knew better than to bring up what he’d seen.

Once the door slid shut behind Inuyasha, Kagome continued brushing Shippō’s hair with long, careful strokes as if nothing had happened. But the air was charged with something. A feeling that wasn’t as suffocating as grief nor lightening as joy but somewhere between. Try as he might to put a name to it, all he could summon was feelings of unease and anxiousness.

He was prepared but not ready to let go just yet.

After a while, Kagome broke the silence with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Shippō,” she tugged lightly at another lock drawing it back behind the tip of his ear. “Moroha isn’t sure how to explain how she feels now that you _are_ leaving. Avoiding it seems to be the only way she can deal with it, or keep from talking about it…”

Shippō grumbled under his breath, “Sounds like someone else I know..”

She swatted at his shoulder as a light scolding but he peeked up at the mirror and saw her smiling down at his head as she gathered part of his hair in a half-ponytail at the back of his head. Gradually the warmth of their shared amusement ebbed away and he lowered his gaze to where his curled fists pressed against his lap.

“I don’t know what to say to her either,” he admitted. “I didn’t think that I would actually _go_ before she was at least fourteen.”

A none-too gentle tug at his hair ribbon conveyed Kagome’s surprise as much as it startled him. She patted his shoulder apologetically when he winced, securing his ponytail then leaning against his back until her elbows rested on his shoulders. Hands draped over his chest where they joined loosely over his heart. Their eyes met in the mirror and he could see numerous questions running through her own.

A few years ago, he might have answered yes to them all because they would lead him to staying just a little longer in the village. To watch his family grow joyously in a world they tried so hard to save. To see the little girl he’d grown to cherish sprout up through the coming springs. Now though, he could only give sad smiles and longing silences.

To a little girl whose entire world was changing without her consent or control, neither of those things were helpful. He knew that feeling well.

Before Kagome could voice her thoughts, a knock at the front door interrupted and she pushed up to her feet with her hands anchored to Shippō’s shoulders for balance. A kiss dropped atop his head - more pressure than feeling - before she hurried out of the room crying, “Coming!”, to whomever was at the door.

Instinctively, he wanted to sniff it out but he willed himself not to. Kagome and Inuyasha had done all they could to ensure he was worry-free and though peaceful times were upon them, both hadn’t slackened in their training at all. He could relax for the time being until he left the safety of the village. Pain twinged at the thought but he wasn’t sure if it was the lingering pain from Kagome’s tug or his own heart.

Sighing, Shippō started gathering up the oils and creams Kagome used for his hair then set them inside a small, square box atop her vanity. It amazed him how much work Inuyasha went through to have it made but seeing how Kagome lit up - he understood why. Maybe, Shippō thought as he lifted his head to gaze out the shuttered window, that is something else they had in common.

The desire to make the ones they loved happy no matter how taxing it was, or saddening.

Shippō stood up once everything was tidied, hearing Kagome’s buzzing chatter in one direction though no matter how he strained his ears he couldn’t pick up Moroha or Inuyasha’s voices. They must have left the hut while he was speaking to Kagome, Shippō thought with a sigh. It wasn’t the first time the father-daughter duo pulled an escape act together.

As much as Moroha resembled Kagome to him, Shippō knew without a doubt she was Inuyasha’s daughter. They shared the same temperament in some ways which included their unwillingness to acknowledge goodbyes. Inuyasha matured with time and though he didn’t express himself verbally, his presence was more than enough. So if there was anyone who could get through to her then it was him.

Shippō slid open the door left ajar from Kagome’s departure then turned around to gaze upon the room. Folded bedding set aside in a half-opened closet, Kagome’s mirror and dresser, Moroha’s colorful wooden toys that’d been littered around the door area until Kagome swept them up in a pile set in the shadow of Tessaiga’s sheath where the legendary blade was propped up against the room’s furthest corner.

Utterly forgotten by its master, and unneeded.

How far they had come, Shippō thought as he slid the door shut with a tiny smile, slipping his hands into his sleeves while he padded down the empty hall toward the front of the hut where the door was cracked allowing cool winds to drift inside. Kagome’s voice was louder now as she laughed along with other voices - familiar ones at that.

Wandering over to the door, Shippō pushed it open further then poked his head out. Barely able to see past the glare of the sun when his ears were assaulted by the sound of several small voices yelling out, “Shippō!” He hardly took a single step backward when multiple arms seized his waist and legs sending him toppling down on his backside, though thankfully not falling over. He wasn’t as small as he’d once was and falling in a tumble with the children clambering over his lower half would’ve left them all with their fair share of pain.

Besides that he could feel a chill run down his spine at the idea of being _slayed_ again.

Opening one eye as a pair of arms latched on around his neck, he turned his head enough to see a small boy inching his way up his back. Foot dangerously close to grazing his tail or stepping on it until Shippō moved it out the way, leaning forward to let him have a foothold on the curve of his back.

Small toes pressed close to his spine as the boy scrambled up as best he could. Finally, Shippō decided to take pity and drew an arm back to hitch him up a little higher. His frustration presented in a dissatisfied puff, curling around the tip of Shippō’s ear and fluttering the hairs at the back of his neck.

“You’re getting better at your sneaking, Hisui,” he complimented, ruffling the boy’s tousled dark hair. Hisui blinked at him, grey eyes narrow and considering, as if he were trying to tell whether Shippō was being honest or not. Even if he looked exactly like what Shippō thought a young Miroku would, his expressions reminded him so much of Sango. A smile tugged at Shippō’s lips as he ruffled Hisui’s hair again, grinning while Hisui wriggled with laughter.

“Are you really leaving today?”

Shippō tipped his chin to one side, looking into a pair of familiar dark brown eyes in a different face. Thick brows furrowed over them worriedly and he quickly recognized which twin was addressing him from the patient manner in which she spoke, and how her dark brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. The spring green kimono she wore tied firmly with a red sash at her waist reminded him how much time had passed. Several of the seams in the kimono had shifted over the years.

Jostling hands pushed at his chest before he could answer as another child, donning an orchid pink kimono and matching red sash scrambled up until her knees pressed uncomfortably against his thigh pinning him in place. She grinned widely unlike her twin, the swell of her dark hair overflowing from the high ponytail she kept it in. A bracelet of violet beads swinging on her wrist catching the glimmer of sunlight as she ruffled Hisui’s hair then pushed him back with a hand pressed against his forehead, his whining ignored.

“Of course he’s leaving today, Kin’u,” she chided, looking at her sister with a self-assured smile. Hisui’s flailing hands doing more to bat at Shippō’s hair then remove his sister’s palm from his forehead. “Papa said there’s no time like the present and the sooner Shippō leaves, the sooner he can come back! Right?”

With the full beam of her smile turned on him, Shippō didn’t have the heart to tell her that wasn’t exactly how it worked. Thankfully he was saved by Kin’u’s long-suffering sigh as she shooed her sister off Shippō’s thigh, alleviating the pressure and freeing Hisui from slipping back on his tail. “Don’t be selfish, Gyo,” she looked at Shippō worriedly and tapped her fingers together. “It’s going to be hard though, isn’t it?”

Shippō nodded, looking between the two of them. They looked more like Sango with every passing day although their eyebrows were unmistakably Miroku’s and so was Gyokuto’s cheerful personality even in the face of the unknown. Still, her smile seemed a bit strained at the corners while Kin’u didn’t smile at all. Even Hisui tipped forward to look at him, sensing something amiss with his sisters’ silence. Glancing back at Hisui, Shippō smiled a little and ruffled his hair again to hear his giggling then laid his hands on the girls’ heads to pat them gently while they laughed, Gyokuto loudly while Kin’u was quieter and hugged herself, peering up at him warmly. He couldn’t lie to them even if he didn’t want them to worry. “Yeah, but I’ll be alright..”

They allowed him up while volleying questions, their hands grasping at various parts of his clothes. Kin’u and Gyokuto’s heads were somewhat level with his hips while Hisui clung to his shoulder with as much ease as Shippō had when he was younger. It was a little interesting seeing the tables turned - from being the one hitching rides on the shoulders and backs of his companions to now walking with a child clinging to him. Kin’u grasped one of his hands while Gyokuto took the other, unperturbed by his clawed fingers curling around their own.

Their chatter was endless as they asked one question or another about the trials and Shippō marveled at how at ease they were in wondering about a kitsune. For children who were raised around demons, it shouldn’t have been a surprise though.

Once they left the hut, Shippō tipped his head up to admire the pale blue sky. Wisps of clouds drifted past and the sun shone magnificently overhead, illuminating the entire field and melting the grass in hues of gold. The fields he’d helped Inuyasha tend in the passing days were growing nicely, dark soil beginning to sprout the stems of vegetables. Gyokuto and Kin’u led him past them and he thought with a side-long glance that he wouldn’t be there for the harvest. How would Inuyasha fare without him?

Just fine, he knew, but the thought still plagued his mind even when he laid eyes on the hanyō clad in red and perched in a tree under which Kagome stood laughing at something the two visitors near her said. One turned around, and Shippō smiled when he laid eyes on Sango. Her dark brown hair fell loosely at her back and swayed as she marched over, eyes lined with pink eyeshadow squinted at him and he faltered slightly wondering what he must’ve done.

“Kin’u, Gyokuto, Hisui,” Sango’s tone erred upon warning and the two girls huddled closer to Shippō’s side while Hisui buried his face against his nape, pillowed by his hair. Recognizing the positioning, Shippō tucked his tail around Gyokuto’s back comfortingly then laid his hand on Kin’u’s head. It was all he could do after all, even with all these years passed and his growing skill, he was no match for Sango. She fixed them all with a stare as they tried not to meet it, and Shippō almost wanted to whine on why _he_ was being scolded. “I thought I told you three to stay within Kirara’s sights.”

Almost on cue, the fire cat demon hopped onto Sango’s shoulder and gave a mew though it was less of an agreement and more of an apology to the trio. The children shuffled around a little, but beneath Sango’s gaze, there was little time for dawdling. A chorus of ‘I’m sorry, mama’ rang in Shippō’s ears and he couldn’t help but laugh. Four pairs of eyes drifted toward him then one by one, the children joined him until Sango sighed then smiled softly.

She lifted a hand for Kirara to jump onto then handed the fire cat to Kin’u before shooing the girls off to play in the open fields. Hisui wiggled a little, seeing his sisters running off renewing his desire to be on his feet rather than carried, and Shippō was only happy to oblige. He knelt down then waited as the boy slipped off his back, giving him one pat on the arm and a wide tooth-missing smile before taking off with only the assuredness that a young child still prone to tripping over their feet could have.

As they ran past, the children swept by their father, exchanging words and quick hugs or dipping under his fingers skimming across the top of their heads. The rings on Miroku’s staff jingled with a soft _shing, shing_ as he approached.

“It seems you’ve avoided being slayed again, my friend,” Miroku said amusedly, raising a hand placatingly when Sango slanted a glance his way. Shippō cocked his head, looking between them curiously and only Miroku seemed wanting to explain while Sango huffed then looked away. “Kin’u wishes to go down the path of becoming a priestess.”

Shippō blinked. “Ah, so the beads…”

Miroku smiled, and Shippō witnessed his pride so often that he knew this look was somewhat restrained. “Ive started teaching her prayers, and _we_ are considering allowing her to participate in the hundred days of kaihōgyō…” His eyes slid toward Sango and Shippō followed suit, noting how she was blatantly ignoring Miroku. Ah, so that must have been the problem. Shippō sighed.

“You don’t want Kin’u to go, Sango?”

At the sound of her name, or perhaps it was because Shippō said it, Sango looked toward him then glanced at Miroku. They shared a quiet look and Shippō was amazed after all the arguing and bickering all the members of their group dealt with - they now could settle their differences quietly. Sango broke eye contact first, her hands lowered to her side and Shippō pretended not to see Miroku hook his pinky with hers or the pleased smile on his lips.

“I only think it’s too soon. We’re still moving everything to the village and Kohaku needs help with ferrying everyone to the new location, let alone crafting weapons…” She trailed off and Shippō wondered how many times they'd had this argument to where Miroku nodded along, letting her gather her thoughts. Then Sango looked at Miroku with concern. “I won’t be able to bring you what you or Kin’u may need right away.”

“Wait, you’re going with her, Miroku?” Shippō looked at him, and Miroku chuckled.

“What father would I be to allow my daughter to take a rite of her own? Leading by example is a parent’s duty. And to that end..” He looked down at Sango, his smile softening with appreciation. “I’ll take care of her..” Shippō glanced down in time to see him thread their fingers together, holding tight to where their palms pressed flat. “You have my word, Sango..”

Sango tipped her head up to look at him, then nodded, glancing Shippō’s way when she started as if realizing he were still there. “Ah, sorry Shippō. We shouldn’t be doing this on your day a—“

“No, no,” Shippō waved his hands, cutting her off. Although he was grateful for that, he felt like his friends were far too used to him being on the sidelines to notice when he was there for their public displays. But it was nice to see them as in love as they were at the end of their travels. He lowered his hands then scratched at his palm with his claw. “It’s good to know all of you will have something to do while I’m away.” He nodded, smiling to himself. “I can at least take comfort in that.”

Sango and Miroku exchanged a glance but this one he couldn’t quite understand. Then, Miroku tipped his head forward and Sango gave a short hum of acknowledgement. Shippō glancing between them suspiciously.

“What is it?”

This time, Miroku was the first one to break eye contact. “Well, Kohaku couldn’t be here because he’s currently guarding Shiori and the children they’re ferrying from Hōraijima…” Shippō caught the knowing glimmer in his eyes and narrowed his own, sensing the teasing that might have come. Sango waved a hand between them, diffusing the tension promptly then pointing aside just as a fresh wave of noises came from the field where the twins were beginning an impromptu brawl while Hisui cheered from atop a transformed Kirara’s back. Miroku sighed, going over to break up his children’s spat leaving Sango with Shippō as they walked on to the tree Kagome stood under, speaking to Inuyasha.

“If there’s something you want to tell him, then I’m happy to pass on the message,” Sango told Shippō and he felt his heart skip a beat. How much did Kagome _tell_ her, he wondered. Lamenting sharing his secrets for all of a second before he remembered what Inuyasha said.

_Shippō is a man now._

And men didn’t hide from their feelings even though Inuyasha, Miroku and _others_ had a habit of letting their egos get the best of them. Swallowing his nerves, Shippō rummaged around inside of his clothes then pulled out a folded piece of paper. He turned it over in his hands a few times wondering whether or not to hand it over. Though with a quick glance, he noted Sango’s brow raised then handed it over. She accepted it gingerly, flipping the paper one way then another before she eyed him curiously. Shippō tried his best not to be _too_ conspicuous when he averted her gaze, taking a vested interesting Miroku attempting to herd his children away from violence.

“I’m guessing that I shouldn’t open this,” Sango said blithely.

Unable to look at her, all Shippō could do was muster a nod, thankful she didn’t press the issue once they were in Inuyasha’s earshot. Even if _did_ drag his feet and trip over his words this wasn’t something Shippō wanted to quarrel with him on. But the closer they got, the more he noticed the hanyō may not have been listening to them at all. His attention kept on a small child perched on the branch beside him, his hand supporting her back while he seemed to be whispering something so low Shippō couldn’t catch it. Coming to a stop beneath the tree, Shippō squinted against the sunlight streaming through its leaves. He was hardly able to make out the pointed tips of a red ribbon but those dark brown eyes, glazed over with shimmering tears were unmistakable.

Moroha.

She shuffled closer to Inuyasha’s side when their eyes met, draping his sleeve over her head as she did her best to disappear beneath it. Disappointedly, Shippō hung his head and leant into Kagome’s comforting pats against his shoulder.

“Give her time, Shippō,” she whispered, alternating between shooting him and her daughter apologetic glances “She’ll come around..”

Shippō sighed. He wanted to believe that was true but they were running _out_ of time. Looking over as Miroku approached with his kids in tow on Kirara’s back, his heart pounded. They were running out of time and there was so much he wanted to say to all of them. Leaves shook free from overhead and Shippō glanced up in time to see a blur of red drop down. Inuyasha rising from a low crouch with Moroha tucked in the crook of his arm, an annoyed expression on his face although from the way his ear swiveled - it must not have been them he had an issue with.

“Mama,” Hisui called, tugging at Sango’s sleeve. “Is Aunt Rin coming?”

Before Sango could respond, Inuyasha interjected with a sharp, “ _Keh_ , Rin would’ve _been_ here but ever since she started getting _bigger_ ,” Inuyasha turned his head, raising his voice slightly above his usual volume. “Sesshōmaru’s been a real _ass_ about her moving _around_.”

Shippō’s ear twitched and he was grateful only a few of them here had such keen hearing not to have caught the click of a sword leaving its sheath. Or the disinterested _hn_ from an unseen lord somewhere off in the woods. Although Hisui shivered, and Miroku tightened his grasp on his staff ever so slightly while Kin’u played with her beads - Kagome shooting Inuyasha a slight glare and Sango was on edge from seeing her children skittish.

“ _Inuyasha_ ,” Kagome’s eye twitched and Shippō stepped back in case she wanted to revisit a forgotten tactic of subjugation. It’d been _years_ since she had but with as much nostalgia as he felt today, perhaps that was going to come back too. Instead, she rounded on her husband and plucked their daughter from his arm much to Inuyasha’s surprise. “There’s _children_ around, _language_! And she’s not getting _bigger_ — she’s _pregnant_!”

Miroku nodded in time with Kagome’s scolding, adding on resolutely, “Childbirth is taxing on the body, Inuyasha. It is well within Rin’s best interests that Lord Sesshōmaru is cautious during this time.” His eyes flickered toward Sango.

Inuyasha’s hair stood on end at Kagome’s snapping but Miroku’s added rebuttal granted them a scoff, before he resigned himself with his hands tucked in his sleeves, ears tipped downward a bit.

“How close are they?” Shippō asked, drawing most of their eyes to him while Kagome reached out for the end of Inuyasha’s sleeve. No one needed to see their quiet makeup and Shippō had been around them long enough to know they’d appreciate their privacy.

A wave of curious noises and speculation answered him while he took a moment to look at each of their faces. The children were new ones, but he looked into the faces of his friends and their eyes.

Kagome glanced his way then smiled gently, her whole facing lighting up. Moroha burrowed closer to her neck and she shifted her hold to accommodate her, mouthing an apology before she turned her attention to soothing her.

Inuyasha’s ears perked up at the recognition and he arched a brow with a tiny smirk. His gaze flicked to Kagome and Moroha, smirk falling as he stepped closer to tend to his distraught child.

Miroku nodded curtly then raised his chin, looking down the tip of his nose as he smiled. Gyokuto called for him and he glanced back to explain to her what was going on while Kin’u listened.

Sango grasped Hisui’s hand and swung him up in an arc to settle on her hip, arm tucked under his bottom. When she looked Shippō’s way there was a sadness to her eyes and she started when Hisui laid his head on her shoulder, giving him a tiny smile then looking back with a nod.

Shippō closed his eyes, breathing in then out of his nose. As he opened his eyes, he looked upon his friends - his family - then nodded. “We’ll meet them on the way to the Tree of Ages then.”

The walk to the clearing where the tree and its dormant well stood was not uneventful. Villagers called out to him with well-wishes and asked Kagome, Inuyasha, Miroku or Sango with their help for one thing or another. People roamed the dirt trails, stopping to look after them as they went, some whispering while others waved. Children peeked out from their parents’ legs, whispering into each other’s ears or waving to the kids as they recognized their friends.

Kaede met them as they crossed a bridge overlooking the shallow stream running through the village. Her weathered skin seemed paler by the day, but her eyes remained keen. She looked Shippō over with something akin to approval then took his hand in her own, squeezing it with more strength than she appeared to have. Afterward, she gave him a faint smile then bid them on their way, following until they’d stepped past the village’s guard towers.

It almost reminded him of old times. Their chattering, the idle bickering, the laughter, wandering around on foot. The children ran around them, sometimes leading the path but otherwise staying close. Hisui tried to coax Moroha from Kagome’s arms more than once but she refused to budge. Shippō did his best to pretend he didn’t feel her eyes on his back as he lifted Kin’u and Gyokuto on his arms and let them swing around. Their peals of laughter made his heart feel a little lighter and if he lagged behind a little, he hoped the others could forgive him.

The Tree of Ages stood tall as it always had and the well was still taken care of by the villagers, out of deference to Kagome rather than fear of what may come from the other side. Vines cleared away from the aged wood and flowers grown closer to its base. Two girls knelt down in almost matching kosodes, picking flowers then running to present them to a young woman perched on the back of a dozing dragon yōkai. She took the flowers with a smile and held them up to her nose to the girls’ delight.

One child looked back, her silver hair and magenta eyes widened. “Mama! They’re here!” She bounded over as fast as her legs could carry her, taking the hand of the girl at her side to pull her as well.

Kin’u and Gyokuto leapt off Shippō’s arms and rushed to meet the pair, crying out, “Towa! Setsuna!” The two pairs of twins collided in a cluster of flailing limbs and giggles, falling into the flowers as they talked to one another eagerly. Hisui took a few steps forward then turned around, Shippō following his gaze to where Moroha peeked from under Kagome’s hair. She worried the front of her kimono, seeming as if she wanted to go but upon locking eyes with Shippō, she hid her face again.

Hisui wavered between staying put and moving forward until he stumbled backward when Towa yelled out, “Hisui! Moro.. ha..?”

Kagome gave Towa an apologetic smile then squeezed Moroha in a hug, setting her down on Kirara’s back where she pouted. “I’ll go talk to Rin,” Kagome told Inuyasha with the subtle warning for him not to start a fight should Sesshōmaru appear. Sango fell in step beside her with a comforting pat to Hisui’s head and Shippō watched Moroha’s ribbon bob as Kirara walked her on toward the other children with Hisui hurrying to keep pace beside her.

Shippō breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of the flowers and the trees in hopes of keeping it engraved in his memory. Contrary to popular belief, forests _did_ hold different smells depending on where you were and no matter where he went - he would never have the smell of home as he did now. Inuyasha’s ear continued to swivel and his brow furrowed, lips pulled back with distaste. While Miroku switched his staff from one hand to another, clapping a hand on Shippō’s shoulder though before he could speak, Inuyasha spoke abruptly.

“Did you tell Kagome?” Shippō looked at him, tilting his head curiously. His eyes narrowed and though he was looking in the direction of his wife’s back, Shippō knew his attention was on him. As if to prove the point, Inuyasha’s gaze snapped to him, pinning him in place. His deadened tone enunciated in each word as he said, “That you might die if you do this.”

Shippō felt Miroku’s hold on his shoulder slacken and his stare boring into the back of his head. The shame of not telling her had long since dwindled but Inuyasha had a way of scolding him that no one else possessed. Looking down at his feet, he shook his head and muttered, “No.”

Inuyasha scoffed and Shippō could imagine him shaking his head. “Hey monk,” he called out, Miroku stiffening at Shippō’s side. “Did you tell _Sango_ that if you go through with the thousand day kaihōgyō, and you can’t complete it - you’re obligated to kill yourself.”

Peeking out the corner of his eye, Shippō almost shuddered at Miroku’s dark expression and the sidelong glance he gave Inuyasha.

Satisfied, Inuyasha huffed. “Thought not.” His eyes were hardened amber, sharpened to the finest point like a knife ready to pierce them through. Warning laced into the edge of his voice. “So don’t go lecturing him about something you’re planning on _probably_ doing yourself one day…” His eyes narrowed and Shippō resisted the urge to look toward Miroku, unsure of what face he might have been making and not sure if he wanted to know.

They lapsed into a stiff silence. The weight of their secrets boring down upon their heads and Shippō felt bad for Inuyasha, being the keeper of both of theirs. If he failed the trial at this level then death was all that awaited him. But Kagome would still be expecting him to come home and he couldn’t imagine how much of a strain it would put on them to know he _died_ and for Inuyasha to reveal the torrid secret he kept from her. Nerves tingling, Shippō curled his fingers into tight fists and followed the pattern on his haori’s hem. Kagome made this for him by hand, with the same hands that she used to hold him close and keep him safe.

Failure was not an option.

“I’m going to do this,” Shippō said to both men who turned to look upon him. He lifted his gaze, first meeting Inuyasha’s then Miroku’s. “There’s no backing out of it now.” Hesitantly, he turned back to Inuyasha and watched as the amber cracked weathered by years of unspoken affection and perhaps the softness of fatherhood. Shippō noticed the change early on when Moroha’s first cry tore into the world. Inuyasha would never be the same as he was when they first met, and that was alright with him.

“I can’t keep hiding behind you all anymore…” Shippō nodded and Inuyasha’s lower lip stiffened as he gave a curt nod in return. Though Shippō knew if it were possible, Inuyasha would protect them all for as long as he could. Turning his attention to Miroku, Shippō nodded again. “Because I’m a man… right?”

Miroku slowly nodded, his gaze drifting and Shippō followed his line of sight to Hisui. Briefly wondering what he was thinking of in regards to his own son before setting the thought out of mind.

Inuyasha snorted. “Tough words for a guy who’d been dragging his feet since forever.”

Miroku chuckled behind his hand while Shippō smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced over when he heard a whisper of his name and saw Rin waving to him from between the shield of Sango and Kagome’s bodies. Beckoned over, he followed and waved to Towa and Setsuna as they hurried over - one following after the other bestowing him with a bouquet of flowers. With a nod and a thanks, each were given a pat. Towa ran off again with a cry of, “Uncle Inuyasha!”, but Setsuna looked back at him for a short while then smiled, waving again before she followed her sister.

She reminded him so much of Rin that it was strangely comforting.

Still, approaching Rin herself was nice in a way he couldn’t put to name. She’d changed in different ways over the years but also not in many. Her happiness and joy were ever present but she carried herself with mature airs reminding him of Sesshōmaru though without his standoffishness. A-Un blinked at him with their slitted, bulbous yellow-green eyes and he bowed his head with respect.

“Shippō!” Rin cried, and a smile curled at his lips without him even having to try.

“You made it, Rin!” He slipped the flowers into one hand, offering his arm to her in a light hug. It was much easier to hug her sideways than frontally considering her rather round belly. Kagome stifled a giggle behind her hand at the way they had to maneuver one another, Sango shaking her head with a sidelong glance at her.

“I wouldn’t miss it even if Lord Sesshōmaru begged me to,” Rin proclaimed proudly and Shippō’s ear twitched as the wind shifted.

He couldn’t imagine the proud daiyōkai begging _anyone_ for anything. Even the implication - no, the mere thought - would have been enough to get someone killed. Kagome seemed to think the same as she covered her mouth and glanced around the trees while Sango seemed to cease breathing for all of a second. But this was Rin, and for reasons none of them would voice aloud, she was the only one exempt from Sesshōmaru’s ire.

Looking down at her stomach as he withdrew his arm, Shippō asked, “Do you know yet?”

Rin beamed, practically glowing as she rubbed her hand over the swell of her stomach. “Mhm, I was just telling Sango and Kagome…” She looked at the pair, Kagome practically vibrating in place with Sango holding her by the shoulder so she wouldn’t fall over. Then Rin looked up to him before smiling fondly at her stomach. “A boy.”

Kagome’s squeal left his ear ringing and he pressed a knuckle into it, wiggling it around to try and save himself from the sound for the next few hours. Still, her cheer was infectious as was Rin’s and he shared a glance with Sango. “I guess Miroku and Sesshōmaru have one more thing in common, huh?”

Sango sighed. “Let’s hope not _everything_.”

“Oh speaking of him,” Rin glanced over her shoulder toward the woods. “He wanted to have a word with you.”

Shippō blinked then looked around, locking eyes with Kagome who shook her head then Sango who gave him a pitying glance. Oh, so it was him. Turning to Rin warily, he asked, “D-Do you know what about?”

Sango whispered to him, “Nervous?”

“I don’t care how strong I’ve gotten, he’s in a whole other league!” Shippō hissed back and Kagome’s laughter almost made him want to dump his bouquet of flowers over her head if he knew it wouldn’t have upset the girls.

Rin waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, Shippō, he just wants to talk.” She clapped her hands together, radiating good cheer and will. “After all the training he’s put you through, maybe he wants to congratulate you.”

Over Rin’s head, Shippō shared a look with Sango and Kagome then turned around to meet both pairs of A-Un’s eyes. Rin’s faith in her husband would never fail to amaze him but he couldn’t say that he felt the same at all. Sango patted his shoulder as he passed by, Kagome giving his already messy ponytail a teasing ruffle before he stepped out of arm's reach.

Even with the impending departure, there was a certain ease to walking deeper into the forest with an array of flowers cradled in his arms. It reminded him of simpler days when the idea of family and home were only a few minutes away. To go without that, he couldn’t say he shouldn’t have been feeling nervous. As the path widened into a glade at the center of an encirclement of trees, Shippō stopped suddenly wary of the aura emanating from the being perched atop a half-sunken boulder.

Sesshōmaru himself didn’t turn to address him but his vassal scurried over, waving around the two-headed staff he bore. Breaking out of his trance was the only way Shippō could escape being whacked by it. Hearing the toad demon’s squeaking voice shout up at him, “You’re late!”, as he swung the staff a few more times seemingly aiming for the top of Shippō’s head but barely being able to graze his chin with the tip of the woman’s head. “How dare you keep Lord Sesshomaru waiting?”

Eventually he tired himself and Shippō adjusted the flowers in his arms, kneeling down.

“What in blazes were you doing?” Jaken huffed, giving a confused _huh_ when Shippō tipped the flowers into his arms.

“A gift from Towa and Setsuna,” he said flatly, amused by the stricken expression on Jaken’s face and the wind’s shifting. “If you burn them or drop them, I’m sure they’ll be upset.”

And not only them, implied. Jaken glared up at him, straining to hold all the flowers bestowed upon him while also grasping his staff. “Why you…” Shippō’s lips curled at the corner as he prepared himself for an age-old argument. “Why Lord Sesshomaru spent his precious time training a whelp like you is beyond the —“

“Jaken.”

Shippō’s eyes opened wide at the sound of _his_ voice. Both he and Jaken turned around to watch as Sesshomaru rose with a grace that was both beautiful and deadly. Without a backward glance, Jaken knew to rescind and lowered his gaze while murmuring, “Y-Yes, m’lord…”

“Be silent.”

Sesshōmaru walked through a pair of trees, their low-hanging branches parting for him as if welcoming him into their depths. Transfixed, Shippō followed after him until he was led past a short wall of shrubs with a ledge sinking into a wooded dell. Sesshōmaru walked seamlessly, even and head held high no matter how the land inclined beneath his feet. As if he dared even the earth itself to trip him. Shippō knew better than to try and mimic his grace. Their way of walking aside, Sesshōmaru didn’t take well to mockery unless it was from his children or Rin.

Grass brushed the undersides of his feet and Shippō sniffed the air. The scent of humans had grown fainter and he could no longer hear the others’ voices unless he strained his ears. Jaken’s scrambling footsteps were lost somewhere above them but wariness crept into Shippō bones and as he stared at the inudaiyōkai’s back, he felt a sense of danger. Sesshōmaru didn’t turn to face him, and that was far more threatening than looking the inudaiyōkai in the eyes.

Shifting backward, Shippō glanced around the small area then crept backward with slow deliberate steps. “Is this the end of our training, Lord Sesshōmaru?”

A playful breeze brushed past them sending his silver hair aflutter and the scant sunbeams catching on the strands caused them to glitter. So brightly that Shippō almost missed the curl of a pale green whip as it lashed against the air, slicing through low-hanging leaves and hurtling toward him. His breath caught in his throat as he raised his sleeve in time to cover his hands, catching the whip lash against the fabric. A sharp sting rattled through his bones and shook his teeth as he leapt backward.

“Are you prepared to die?” Sesshōmaru asked, withdrawing the whip in an arc. It rippled around his body in a spiral, emanating a yellowish-green glow.

Shippō shook off his arm then brushed his fingers along his sleeve, pressing his toes into the dirt and grass as he crouched down. “What a foolish…” He sprang off his feet, closing the distance between them with his claws extended. “… question!”

Sesshōmaru huffed, dodging a swipe of his claws then bringing down his whip in a sharp snap of the wrist. Shippō narrowly avoided its whistling strike, twisting on his back foot then staggering upright as he lunged again. It was a familiar rhythm and dance. Sesshōmaru wouldn’t allow him too far within his range but as soon as he breached his defenses, the whip would twist around to grab him. He shifted his tail out of its reach and ducked, dropping down on all fours only to stagger up to his feet then bend backward avoiding its coil from wrapping around his throat.

Far too many training sessions ended with him being caught and flung into the trees or a bush, so there was a certain satisfaction that beat adrenaline wildly in his veins. "I don't plan on dying at all," Shippō said, swearing he heard Sesshōmaru answer with a small hum.

As Shippō rolled back up to his feet, the whip began to break apart in particles of light. He'd never been conscious long enough to watch it _vanish_ , quicly realized his mistake when he stared at them for a second too long. His next glance earning him an eyeful of Sesshōmaru then a hard _thwack_ against the underside of his chin. Teeth clacking together, his fangs almost split his tongue as he stumbled backward then grasped his throbbing jaw, somehow managing not to fall to his knees.

“Shippō, are you alright?” Jaken shouted, sliding down the ledge miraculously without dropping the flowers in his arms. It was such a blatant display of care that Shippō was caught off guard, used to their usual banter.

He blinked away the fresh wave of tears that sprung to his eyes and glared disdainfully at Sesshōmaru’s back as the daiyōkai turned around, seeming disinterested now. What he would give to whack him one good time.

“I’m fine..” Shippō grumbled, the pain lessening second by second. He crouched down beside Jaken and muttered. “Do you think I passed?”

“You’re alive aren’t you? Let that be enough.” Jaken scoffed, and Shippō had to agree. Few people were able to fight with Sesshōmaru and live to tell the tale. He couldn’t himself among the lucky ones then.

Sesshōmaru lifted his head, sniffing the air and Jaken paled, rounding as he muttered concernedly, “I-Is something wrong, m’lord?”

Shippō raised a brow when Sesshōmaru slanted a glance in his direction then turned on his heel, starting up the incline once again. “Jaken, we’re leaving.”

Sharing a glance with Jaken, Shippō looked away and scanned the circle of trees. His eyes widened at the sight of red peeping out behind one.

“Moroha?”

The tips of a red ribbon perked then slipped behind the tree trunk and Shippō sighed, clearing the ledge with one jump as Jaken scrambled up after Sesshōmaru. He hesitated from rounding to see her. Kagome was certain that she’d come around in her own time while Inuyasha seemed to have said something to her if she’d come this far. Now, it felt as if it were his turn but he wasn’t sure of what words to use or how comforting they would be.

Goodbyes were still goodbyes even if they weren’t forever.

“Moroha,” he started, kneeling down. The ache from Sesshōmaru’s punch had lessened but he wondered if he hit him partly because of how upset Moroha was. He’d been so focused on the fight that he hadn’t even noticed her approach and even if Sesshōmaru wouldn’t admit liking Inuyasha even a little bit - Moroha was another story. “I know you don’t want to talk right now but…”

He inclined his head enough that he could see the dark wisps of hair unable to be gathered in the ponytail Kagome always did for her in the mornings. Leaves and blades of grass stuck out of the ponytail’s swell and he wondered with an aching heart how quickly she hurried after him. Did she think he would leave her without a goodbye? The urge to gather her in his arms and hold her to his chest was stayed by a need to make his point known. So he swallowed and forged on.

“After today, I’m going to be leaving again,” he tasted the words with a hint of regret and saw her shoulders curve inward with a bare flinch. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “If I could stay longer and still do what I have to do then I would.”

He didn’t think only of her but all of them. Sango and Miroku’s growing family, the resurgence of the demon slayers and Kin’u’s growth as a priestess. He wanted to know what path Gyokuto would take and watch Hisui trail after his uncle’s heels. A part of him shuddered at the thought of Kohaku. He wanted to see Rin’s daughters grow older, see her blossom with joy at how Sesshōmaru would fare once his son was in the world. Jaken’s scrambling would’ve been entertaining and Myōga would have plenty of stories to share. Creeping fear of Kaede’s passing whilst he was away filled him with panic but he swallowed it and cast it aside, thinking of how resilient she’d been over the years.

Then there was Kagome and Inuyasha, and Moroha — he wanted to see her grow older. Be there with her when she challenged her old man time and time again. Listen to Kagome’s stories of her home and the tales her mother once told her, squeeze love into her hands when her eyes misted over as she stared off in the direction of the well --- dormant and powerless but no less loved.

He wanted to laugh with Inuyasha and share a drink with him, cherishing a hard day won and the promise of a tomorrow. Then curl up on his mat and wake up to Moroha sleeping underneath his tail - small and perfect.

Shippō’s soul shuddered and he blinked away the tears misting his eyes. His mouth warm with unshed tears as he whispered softly, “I would be with you forever.”

The weight of those words lingered between them and all at once, the world felt too small. His skin was too big and he wanted nothing more than to crawl out of it and into the small fox he’d once been. He wanted to run with Moroha chasing after him as she learned how to walk, return home where he’d scurry into Kagome’s arms then leap onto Inuyasha’s shoulder much to Moroha’s delight.

“But I’ll be gone for awhile, and I promise when I come back, I’ll come home right away.“

Where he didn’t have to think of how he’d risen through the ranks, that the elders looked upon him and said he was ready — that his father had taught him, he simply forgot.

That he had to come and seize his destiny as time was fleeting and he wouldn’t be growing any younger. If he could have forgotten it all and stayed with them -

His father’s face came to mind, kind and warm even when he’d closed his eyes forever in an eternal sleep. A tear almost slipped down his cheek. He owed it to him to at least try and use what he taught him. So much time had been lost — not wasted, never wasted — but he had to grow up at some point.

Shippō missed the sound of tiny feet approaching him and the hands gripping the front of his clothes, pressing closer in a hug that didn’t quite reach all the way around him but enough for a child. Enough for Moroha. Her face pressed against his stomach, dampening the cloth with a briny scent. Kneeling down, Shippō scooped her in close to him and pressed his face against her hair. He inhaled her scent and held her close to him as she clutched fistfuls of his clothes as an anchor.

“I’ll miss you…” She murmured, forlorn and earnest, a trembling crack to her voice.

Tears squeezed past his closed eyelids and he nodded, burying his nose against her hair. “I know,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ll miss you too.”

They stayed like that for awhile before Shippō pulled away and wiped the tears from her cheeks, smiling down at those brown eyes. She held his wrist between both of her hands and rubbed her cheek against his palm, her nose reddened from crying and eyes a bit puffy. He tucked his arms around her one more time and curled around her to let her weep and dry her tears against his clothes, rubbing her face wherever she liked as she held fast to him.

“Moroha! _Moroha_!”

Kagome’s voice carried from deeper in the forest startling them both apart. Shippō barely having time to stand up when Moroha held his index and middle finger in her grasp, pulling him along toward the sound of her voice. He almost wanted to laugh. Her head hardly cleared his knee but she ran with the assuredness that he would follow, and he couldn’t do more than that. Lifting her over gnarled roots, and inching her away from mushrooms peeping from their crooks, eventually letting go to follow after her as she sprinted ahead laughing away.

When she dipped out of his sight, Shippō heard a sighed exclamation of,“Moroha! Why did you run off like that?”

He turned around another tree’s bend to find Kagome kneeling down in front of her daughter who was bouncing on the tips of her toes, smiling up at her. Inuyasha stood behind them with his arms folded, casting a side-long glance at Shippō when he scoffed, “So you’re both friends again?”

Moroha flashed a grin at her father and Inuyasha smiled back, seeming in better spirits now that she was as well. “About time,” he muttered, clapping a hand against Shippō’s backs they started back toward where the others were gathered. Moroha ran around their legs, shaking off Kagome’s hand and refusing to be picked up by Inuyasha, instead grasping Shippō’s fingers and trotting beside him with a big smile.

He flashed them an apologetic look but Kagome only seemed amused while Inuyasha shook his head, draping his arm around her shoulders. Their eyes meeting before they smiled at one another and Shippō couldn’t help smiling himself.

Words were said swiftly when they were all gathered together and it dawned upon the children that he would be leaving them. Tears rolled down several small faces he’d seen over the years and he hastened to comfort them, not minding sitting down as they clambered over his back and clung to his sleeves. Towa perching on his thigh with her arms tucked around his neck as she sobbed against his shoulder, Setsuna adopting a quieter approach by clinging to his opposite arm. Kin’u tried to keep a stiff upper lip while Gyokuto wept openly, Hisui standing near Setsuna while rubbing at his eyes furiously.

Moroha kicked at the grass and clung to his hand, the last one to hold onto him as the others were gradually led away or pried off by their parents. Towa kicking lightly against Sesshōmaru’s hold while Setsuna sullenly allowed herself to be eased away. Hisui going limp in Sango’s grasp while Kin’u and Gyokuto held onto Miroku’s hands with matching looks of lament as they waved to Shippō. Slowly he pushed up to his feet and looked upon them all.

It all felt too soon.

He stared into the faces of his friends — Sango’s gentle smile and Miroku’s kind eyes, Rin’s tearful gaze and Sesshōmaru’s solemn countenance turned away but his ears twitched from beneath his hair angled toward them while his hand settled behind his wife’s back. Supporting her as gently as he could while maintaining distance. Even Jaken seemed unaffected, still carrying the flowers the girls had brought for Shippō, urging either twin not to cry while they hid in their mother’s lap. A-Un blinking at him for a second too long that he might have thought it was in farewell, both heads shifted to nudge at the twins and coax them up onto the saddle. Kirara nudged at Shippō’s back and he smiled back at her, smoothing down the fur between her ears affectionately.

When her reddened gaze slipped lower, he looked down at Moroha who still held onto his hand. Her eyes never left him and though she shed no tears now, he could see the silent plea as she squeezed his fingers.

“Shippō.”

Looking up, he saw Kagome with her hands clasped over her chest and Inuyasha hovering at her shoulders. His face trained into that angry, sullen expression he often wore when he didn’t want to shed tears. Preferring to be sullen and vigilant over saddened.

“We can walk you…” She trailed off, glancing up at her husband and for a second, Inuyasha’s eyes softened and he nodded. Kagome smiling faintly, her hand finding in the crook of his elbow. “.. As far as the Bone Eater’s Well.”

Shippō swallowed thickly, managing a nod. His heart clenched as Moroha clung to his hand and Kagome held onto his arm while Inuyasha walked on his other side nearest to his daughter. No words were said between them and when he glanced back, their friends were still there watching as they went. He let his eyes wander around the open field, glance up at the trees and the sky. He looked down at Moroha, then shifted his elbow to nudge Inuyasha’s. The surly look wiped away when he nodded down at her and Inuyasha took her other hand, the both of them lifting her up so she could swing. Her giggles bringing a smile to Kagome’s face, as she wiped away the tears that slipped free.

Their trek didn’t end at the Bone Eater’s Well as promised, going further to the Tree of Ages where it all began as Kagome once told him. She stared up at the tree with a mixture of fondness and sadness, and Shippō opened his arms when she turned to him. Letting her hug him as tightly as she wanted, her face buried against his shoulder as she squeezed.

“Papa, what’s wrong?”

Hearing Moroha, Shippō looked up at Inuyasha noting the strange look he was giving them. The barest hint of moisture in his eyes making Shippō’s throat feel tight.

“ _Eh_ ,” he sounded, forcing a goofy tone as he looked over Kagome’s shoulder. “Are you crying Inuyasha? You’re going to miss me that much?”

Inuyasha’s brow twitched and he raised a shivering fist. “You…”

“ _Geh_ …!” On instinct, Shippō closed his eyes and tried to hide behind Kagome but she was smaller than him now and the blow he expected never came. “Huh?” He opened his eyes and glanced up as soft pats were delivered to the top of his head, then the hand slipped away with Inuyasha’s annoyed _feh_.

Kagome’s shoulders trembled with her giggles and she peeked up at him, smiling adoringly. Inuyasha looked away quickly, seeming embarrassed if nothing else. Slowly, Shippō let go of Kagome and held her by her elbows, allowing his arms to slip from her then. A light pat to the top of Moroha’s head before he took a step back then another, turning around gradually. The first step was the hardest but each one after that made his heart beat that much faster and harder. He’d almost begun to slip into the forest when he heard, “Shippō!” Turning around to see Moroha waving from between her parents’ legs, smile wide as she hopped up and down. “Come back home soon, okay!”

Kagome waved from beside her, hand cupped around her mouth. “Be safe!”

Shippō smiled a little and nodded, turning away when his ear caught the faintest whisper of Inuyasha’s voice on the wind.

“You’ll do fine.”

He sniffed, blinking back the rush of tears then bowing his head as he stepped forward and allowed the forest swallow him up as he started the journey from home.

* * *

“Shippō!”

When he opened his eyes, a vision of red burst free from the darkened forests and ran toward him at full tilt. He rose and ran toward it faster than he could think of. Wounds ached, re-opening and weeping but he refused to stop as step after step brought him closer to _her_. In mid-stride, he loosened the hold on his form and felt the aches and cracks. His limbs bending and shifting, vision blurring for all of a second though he could hear her voice over the crackle of his energy and the hiss of wind whipping past. He pressed his bare hand against the soil, dug his feet into the grass then lurched upright, tossing tangled dirty copper locks out of his face.

His arms opened wide as she launched herself at him, colliding somewhere in the middle where they grasped onto one another tightly then fell in a heap with her small form curled up against his chest. He could feel her shivering against him and held her tight, bringing his knees in his close and shielding her with the drape of his sleeves. Nose buried against her hair while the red of her ribbon tickled the back of his eyelids.

A shudder rolled through him when she clung to him, a little bit older, but still a child. Yet alone — something Inuyasha and Kagome would never have allowed. And he thought he braced himself for this. This feeling of loss, of confusion, of _anger_ , but all he could do was brace his back against the wind, protect her from night’s chill as he whispered against the crown of her hair, “I’m home, Moroha.”


End file.
